Sitting in front of the Prince of Maiju, Soren had been forcing himself to smile for the past two hours. The man had been talking nonstop, to the point that the omega’s head had begun to ache.

He wanted to blame it on the lack of sleep, on the missed training that had left him sluggish. But he knew very well that skipping a single day of training was not enough to make him vulnerable to someone else’s illogical rambling.

"Are you listening?" the Prince of Maiju asked, his grin stretching wider.

"Yes, of course," Soren lied. The alpha’s words slipped into one ear and vanished just as easily.

"So, I once had a dream where I could finally meet you. And here we are! I cannot begin to express how delighted I am to have the chance to admire your beauty finally," the man continued, his gaze lingering far too long, gleaming with something that bordered on reverence—or hunger.

Soren had recognized it immediately. Admiration, twisted neatly into lust. A dark blue light pulsed faintly in the other prince’s chest, unmistakable in its intent.

Sometimes, Soren wished he had been born blind to such things. Then, perhaps, he could have pretended not to notice how easily people reduced him to something ornamental—something to desire rather than understand.

Just an omega they wanted to claim. Just an omega they sought to possess at all costs. And at times, their desire knew no bounds. They wished to destroy him. Break him. Merely to show him that he stood below the alphas.

The room was filled with a single voice—Prince Nayon.

The Imperial Crown Prince barely spoke—his presence was felt more than it was heard, his voice surfacing only when it was absolutely necessary.

"Well then, we shall meet another time again. I will not hold you back," Prince Nayon stated, glancing at the watch on his wrist before rising from his seat.

Soren nodded, pushing himself to his feet.

"Yes, of course."

Having said that, Prince Nayon bowed before exiting the room.

The red-haired man sank back into his chair, leaning his head slightly backward. He closed his eyes and exhaled sharply.

It wasn’t over yet. He was scheduled to meet another candidate tomorrow.

He had forgotten how exhausting it was to deal with alphas who weren’t from Revhara.

Their gazes, their hearts—both were tainted with disgusting thoughts. Fantasies about an omega, objectifying him as though he were not a living being, but merely something meant to satisfy their desires.

A looming figure suddenly blocked the glow of golden light. Soren frowned, slowly parting his eyelids.

"You will get wrinkles even before you turn five hundred if you keep frowning like that," Rihaan said with a grin, gazing down at him.

Soren didn’t reply. He simply stared at the man, as though studying him—or as if lost in a daze.

"What are you thinking about?" the light-brown-haired prince asked, raising an eyebrow.

Still silent, Soren continued to look at him. Rihaan’s eyes were different. They held no lust, no greedy hunger. He had never looked at Soren the way other alphas did.

Perhaps that was why, somewhere deep within, Soren wanted this man to be his consort—his husband. The only one, aside from his family, who might grant him the respect he deserved.

It was also why he could never bring himself to hate Rihaan. Not even after the humiliation.

He denied it time and again, insisting it wasn’t true. But Soren was no fool. He remembered that night all too clearly.

How whispered ripples in the large hall. How everyone stole glances at him, eyes filled with something Soren couldn’t understand. As if they were evaluating his crime. Crime he hadn’t committed.

Then, the next morning, rumours spread like wildfire across the empire. That the Imperial Crown Prince was, after all, just an omega.

Rejected like any other omega.

Discarded like any other omega.

When Soren didn’t move away, Rihaan took it as a chance—an opportunity to do something that might change Soren’s perspective.

Slowly, he ran his fingers through the Imperial Crown Prince’s curly red hair.

Soren gasped, his lips parting before he straightened abruptly in his seat.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, turning toward the man.

Rihaan’s hands froze midair as he blinked.

"I wanted to give you a massage. Remember?" he said quietly. "I used to do it whenever you felt overwhelmed. It always helped you back then." 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

Soren narrowed his gaze, clearly not trusting the other man’s words.

"And... why would you do that?"

"Because we are friends. Again. Just like old times," Rihaan replied, grinning brightly.

For a moment, the omega simply stared at him. How long had it been since he’d seen Rihaan smile like that?

He hadn’t worn that expression since arriving here.

Although doubtful, Soren turned around, allowing the man to do as he pleased—like a fool, he thought.

Rihaan’s grin widened, his hazel eyes glittering with barely restrained excitement. Soren had accepted him once more. As a friend.

It felt like the first step toward redemption. Toward earning forgiveness. Toward fixing the mistake he himself had created.

Rihaan’s fingers sank into Soren’s curls, slow and deliberate. It wasn’t the light, absent-minded massage from the past.

His thumbs pressed just a little firmer against the base of Soren’s skull, lingering there as if testing how much the omega would allow.

Soren stiffened at first. His breath caught, shoulders tensing beneath Rihaan’s touch.

This was different.

"You are overdoing it. You can just do it lightly," Soren muttered, though he didn’t pull away.

Rihaan chuckled softly behind him. "Am I?"

His fingers traced along the sensitive line where neck met shoulder, pressure easing, then returning—unhurried, intimate. "You always liked it this way."

That wasn’t entirely true. Or perhaps it was, once upon a time.

Soren swallowed, heat creeping up his neck despite himself. He hated how familiar it felt. How his body remembered even when his mind refused to.

If this kept going on, he might mistakenly believe that Rihaan truly has feelings for him.

And as if the Gods hated him, the words slipped from his lips before he could stop them.

"Do you really not like me—in a romantic way?"